clouds hunger for the eager rain 
while weeping with vivid fear, 
the passionate storm sweeps over gloom 
and thirsts for crushing pain; 

causing a gentle shame 
and imperfect guilt, 
meddling thunder assumes remorse 
briskly appointing lackluster blame; 

welcoming profound regret 
the rolling clouds create a striking fear, 
and feed from untold pain 
sadness overshadows the impending threat; 

painting blacks and greys and woe 
make for shadows of approaching guilt, 
conscience begs reprieve from misery 
fabricating the peacefulness of rain so slow; 

a shock of embellished fear 
becomes a vessel for shame, 
a hardened plea for loss of ill repute 
and all that you hold dear; 

thunder strikes terror 
into the heart of guilt, 
a cold, sticky rain 
inflicts blinding pain without error; 

an unknown degree of pain 
will cut the lines of shame, 
barren soil accepts the torrents 
but shuns the crimson stain; 

festering in the mask of guilt 
and shifting the sphere of unwitting horror 
into a brainwashing of fear 
over this slippery rose left to wilt; 

making for a shining admission of anguish 
an ostracized shame 
begins to recognize the weary gloom 
and cause the spirit to languish; 

the gentle tides of fear cascade into shame 
a morbid pain gives way to gloom, 
a solid congruence of guilt and pallid rain 
begin to melt into one and the same.